


still a believer (but i don't know why)

by mixtapestar



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s04e12 The Secret Sea, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Quentin Coldwater Lives, not tonally consistent with the show (because it's happy)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:27:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26615956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixtapestar/pseuds/mixtapestar
Summary: Quentin is the only one who can make the flower bloom. The flower they need to save Eliot and Julia.But what happens when his belief means he's the only one that can use the power of the Secret Sea? (a S4 fix-it)
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater & Margo Hanson & Eliot Waugh, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 13
Kudos: 109
Collections: A Million Little Times





	still a believer (but i don't know why)

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by Taylor Swift's "mirrorball", specifically:  
>  _I'm still a believer, but I don't know why / I've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try_
> 
> huge thanks to Rubi for constant encouragement and superb beta work. much love also to hoko, deb, and everyone at P&P for being such an inspiration. <3

Quentin arrives at the Drowned Garden long before he's ready.

"Quentin has the best chance of making the garden grow," Zelda had said. What utter bullshit. Quentin's pretty sure if there's a flower here for every emotion, then only the negative ones are blooming now. There's a particularly lively petunia he can see - that one must be for righteous anger. How dare Christopher Plover saunter in and shit all over his childhood like that? At least before today he'd had the bliss of ignorance.

Alice gives him a pep talk about truly believing, and Quentin appreciates it, but it's believing that got him in trouble in the first place. So many things he's believed in have turned out to be massive disappointments.

"You know what?" he says once he's left alone in the garden. "I still don't believe that magic comes from pain. If it did, I'd be a way better magician." He laughs ruefully. "I believed in Fillory. I have always, in some way, _believed_ in Fillory. But love? Love takes more than belief. It takes trust and, like, some give-and-take. A-and, I don't know, here I am rambling at a plant about love. I don't think that Fillory deserves my love, but the people here? The people that I care about? They do. And I don't know where magic comes from, but I know what I can use it for. Those people. Those people who also, as it happens, care about Fillory."

He sighs loudly. He doesn't even know what he's saying anymore. How are they ever gonna get Eliot and Julia back?

But then something happens. The stem shakes, just a little. And to Quentin's utter shock, blooms start to appear. "Guys!" he calls back, unable to take his eyes off it. "Something's happening!"

The others hurry back, excited and ready for action. The flower stops growing with four blooms, but he'll take it. He pulls the first off to give to Penny for Josh, but as soon as he hands it over, Penny hisses and drops it in surprise.

" _Ow_ ," Penny says, clutching his hand. Quentin bends down to pick up the blossom, bewildered. "That shit burns, dude."

"Really? It's not bothering me at all." He turns to Alice. "D'you… wanna try?"

Alice shrugs, turning her elbow toward Quentin's palm before drawing back with a gasp. "Yeah, no go for me either," she says, massaging her elbow.

"Well, shit," Quentin says, staring at the flower in his hand.

"Guess that means it's up to you, flower boy," Penny says.

They go to the Library immediately after Quentin juices up on the reservoir, and it all goes surprisingly well, up until the moment Quentin finishes sealing the bottle and sees how much pain Julia is in.

On Julia's insistence, though, they go back to the reservoir first, and Quentin replenishes his magic supply enough to go after Eliot.

"We go to Brakebills first," Quentin insists. He looks at Julia. "You need to see Dr. Lipson now."

It turns out to be the right decision, because it's there they get word from Fogg that he's sent the Monster in Eliot's body away, leaving him in a state of confusion. Armed with this information, Quentin and Alice discuss plans while Penny argues with people about Julia's well-being. Quentin tries not to feel overwhelmed.

They manage to dupe the monster and bottle him up, but there is a very close call when Quentin can't make himself stab Eliot. Luckily, the backup plan is for Alice to go for it, and she gets in with the element of surprise.

Quentin heaves a huge sigh of relief as the magic seals over the bottle. He goes to Eliot immediately, ignoring Penny's call of protest.

"Wake up, Eliot, goddamn you," he says, helping Alice apply pressure to his wound. 

When Eliot's eyes flutter open, they zero in on Quentin. "Q, there you are. Do me a favor and make the drinks, this time."

" _Eliot_ ," Quentin says in relief, but Eliot's already slipping back to unconsciousness.

Penny goes into overdrive after that, travelling them to Brakebills to get Eliot in Dr. Lipson's care, then Quentin back to the reservoir, then the apartment to save Josh before returning again with the whole gang to Brakebills.

It's a lot. Julia is trapped between god-and-human status, they're still trying to stabilize Eliot, Alice is talking about something with the Library, and everyone seems to have some separate idea about how Quentin should use the last Drowned Garden bloom.

Every word feels like it's entering a vortex in his brain, churning up with all the other thoughts to create this loud roar that drowns out everything. Finally, he screams at everyone to shut the fuck up and leave him alone, then storms outside to have a moment to himself.

He doesn't know how long he spends outside. It takes him a while to calm down and even longer to start lining his thoughts up in any kind of logical manner. It's possible he hates Fillory even more now. He's the only one with all this power at his fingertips, and it's still not enough. He's got one last shot to help, and he's so sure he's gonna fuck it up.

"Hey, man," Josh says, breaking him from his reverie. "Don't mean to interrupt your brooding, but we kinda have big news."

Inside, they fill him in. Julia is healed and stable, but no longer a goddess. But the big news is that they used the scroll.

"So I accidentally used my fish magicks to open up a portal," Josh explains, "and Alice and I figured out how to get rid of the monsters for good."

Alice nods. "It's in the Mirror Realm."

Quentin takes a deep breath. "Alright, well I guess I just need to go get juiced up one last time--"

"No, Quentin," Alice interrupts gently. "We talked about it, and… we don't need you for this. I can handle it, I know where to go. You've done enough."

"Oh." He flips through his mental rolodex, marking off items before coming down to, "How's Eliot?"

"Still in muggle surgery," Margo answers with a scowl. "They won't let any of us in."

He looks around at all of them, some of them already jumping into side conversations, getting a game plan together. Quentin takes a deep breath and makes a decision.

"I'm using the last bloom to stabilize Eliot. No," he interrupts their protests, "I don't care, it's my stupid magic flower and I get to say what it's used for."

So Penny begrudgingly takes him to the reservoir one last time and back to Brakebills again before going off with Alice. Quentin manages to convince Dr. Lipson to let him help, and he follows her instructions precisely.

"Did it work?" He looks between Dr. Lipson and Eliot. "Please tell me I didn't like, move his spleen across his body or something."

Dr. Lipson nods, and for one hysterical moment Q thinks that means he did uproot Eliot's spleen. "You did well. His body is stabilizing. We need to keep him in an induced coma for a while longer while his body adjusts, but I see no reason he won't make a full recovery."

Quentin stays by Eliot's side. He doesn't care what's going on at the Seam, or at the Library. He just has to be here right now. Margo is there with him most of the time, but she occasionally disappears to Get Shit Done, and Quentin respects that. Mostly he's just grateful for the chance to breathe.

When Eliot wakes up, hours later, it's just the two of them in the room. Eliot murmurs, "Q? Is that really you?"

Quentin grabs at his arm, wondering the same thing. "It's me, El. You're okay. You're back."

Eliot grabs back, his fingers circling Quentin's arm. "This may sound absurd, but can I kiss you?"

"Oh! Um, I, uh, I mean, yes? Yes."

Eliot levers himself up on an elbow, and Quentin realizes how ridiculous it is to expect Eliot to come to him. He rockets out of his chair and leans into Eliot's space before pausing, wondering if Eliot was serious.

"Hey there," Eliot murmurs, bringing a hand up to Quentin's cheek.

"Hi," Quentin says with a laugh. He's about to say something else, anything to distract from his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest, but then Eliot takes him up on his permission and brings their lips together.

The kiss is shallow at first, Eliot feeling him out and Quentin waiting to see what's to come of this. But then Eliot makes a _hmm_ noise, like he's come to a conclusion, and his hand moves from Quentin's cheek to the back of his neck, and Quentin almost loses his balance as Eliot pulls him in to kiss him like he's trying to breathe him in.

With a rush of feeling, Quentin reciprocates Eliot's enthusiasm, clutching at his shoulders and kissing back with the fervor of all his pent-up affection. Eliot is back and whole, and his tongue feels like heaven in Quentin's mouth. He's pretty sure this is a bad idea, that there are less-exhausted versions of himself that would put a stop to this, but he'll figure out why later.

Eliot's grip on his neck slackens, and Quentin feels and takes the cue to pull back a bit, but not before licking his way into Eliot's mouth one last time.

"Thank you," Eliot says, and Quentin can't help the giggle that escapes him. It's usually him that awkwardly thanks someone for showing him affection. Of course, it doesn't really seem that awkward, the way Eliot says it. "There's probably world-ending shit going on right now, huh?"

"Pretty much."

"But you're here."

"I am." Quentin straightens, but he pulls his chair closer so that he doesn't go far. "How do you feel?"

"I feel… remarkably good, considering I vividly remember being stabbed not so long ago."

"You can thank your boy for that," Margo says, suddenly swishing her way into the room with coffees for herself and for Quentin. "I knew you'd wake up the moment I was out of the room. Typical."

"You missed all the fun," Quentin says, shooting an amused look at Eliot and watching his eyes light up with delight.

"Oh? Do tell."

"Quentin was about to tell me what world-ending shit was going on."

"Was I?" Quentin challenges.

"I _did_ miss all the fun, didn't I?" Margo says, her calculating stare focused on Quentin before swinging over to Eliot. "What did you do?"

"I just woke up, what could I have done?"

"He kissed me. It was great. Hoping to do more of it later," Quentin says, taking his coffee from her. Something in his chest swells with glee at the twin scandalized-slash-super-pleased looks he gets from both of them. He sips his coffee smugly.

"Good for you," Margo says, slapping Quentin on the knee. "And as for you," focusing on Eliot now, "since when do you kiss and not tell?"

"Margo, please. Allow a man five minutes to wake up from his coma."

"Really good to have you back, El," she says, and her eyes shine for a moment. Eliot reaches out and grasps her hand tightly.

"Okay, but seriously, I am entirely out of the loop. I'll never be able to keep up with the latest gossip if I don't catch up. Can someone please fill me in?"

So they do, to the best of their ability, about the monsters and the Seam and the whole mess going down with the Library. They've received word that Alice and Penny made it back from the Seam successfully, but no other news has made it into Brakebills yet. Quentin kind of likes it that way.

"We're still living off crumbs of ambient magic, except for this one," as Margo pokes Q's side, "who made a flower bloom by loving Fillory, which granted him a few super shots of power, and he just used the last one to make you feel better."

"Really?" Eliot says, appearing thrilled. "What did you use the other ones for?"

"Trapping the monster and his sister," Quentin explains, counting the two on his fingers, adding another as he continues, "and then changing Margo's boyfriend back from a fish."

"Boyfriend?" Eliot says, raising his eyebrows.

Margo rolls her eyes. "Josh. We're trying out the term for now."

"I guess I really do need the latest gossip. Who else is a thing right now?"

"Penny-23 and Julia, though he decided to make some calls about her recovery earlier that she wasn't happy about, so I'm not sure if that's going to last. And what about you and Alice?" she asks, looking at Quentin.

"What _about_ me and Alice?" Quentin says, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. There had been a moment, after they came back from Brakebills South, when he'd been overwhelmed with emotion about the past and finding his discipline, when the nostalgia and fear of the next 48 hours almost had him running back into Alice's arms. But luckily the moment had passed, and he managed not to do or say anything he would've regretted.

"You seemed like you might be getting close again," Margo says, the picture of innocence.

"We've made amends," Quentin grants, "but otherwise? No." He chances a glance up at Eliot, whose expression is neutral, but his eyes look bright.

"Well." Eliot claps his hands. "As much as I love having my favorite people gathered around my sick bed, can we maybe get out of here? I feel completely fine."

There's paperwork to fill out before they can be done - there's always paperwork, even in magical hospitals - but then they're free to go. After some discussion, Eliot opts to check out 'this new penthouse you all keep talking about'.

Eliot spends the first five minutes at the apartment running around fascinated that they've somehow lucked into such a fancy penthouse in the city. "Have you seen this bathroom? Jesus Christ."

Quentin is mostly just happy to be making new memories in this place, especially ones with a happy Eliot.

They're just dithering over where to order dinner from when they get a text from Alice in the group chat. _Zelda put out a call to action. We need a game plan to take down Everett._

Quentin sees Margo type something on her phone, then his phone lights up next to him. _Consider there a proverbial sock on the penthouse door for the next 24 hours. DO NOT DISTURB_

"Fuck 'em," Margo says. "We're taking the night off."

Eliot reads over her shoulder, then presses a kiss to her temple. "I'll make the drinks."

He checks the contents of the bar shelf and the fridge. "Really, Quentin? You really need this much ginger beer?"

Quentin winces. "Can you maybe stick to calling me 'Q' for a while?"

Eliot's expression softens. "Of course." With a put-upon sigh, he pulls a can of ginger beer out of the fridge. "I'll make you one of your boring drinks, but only because you wasted one of your shots of magic on me."

Quentin watches him mix up something fancy with tequila for himself and Margo, then go through the comparatively simple steps of a Moscow Mule. Eliot loves to tease him for his drink of choice, but he's never failed to make one when Quentin's asked.

Quentin probably drinks the first one too fast, considering it's a double. But he feels pleasantly warm as Margo recounts stories from Fillory and Eliot lets him lean into his side on the couch. Eliot's arm is draped over the back of the couch, but occasionally his hand comes up to play with the hair on the back of Quentin's neck. It's just the kind of affectionate touch the monster _didn't_ go for, and that fact makes Quentin so happy he could scream.

Well into his second double-shot Moscow Mule, Quentin tells Eliot about his game of Push. He thinks his hand gestures might be a little out of control with the way Eliot is watching him flail so intently, but he can't seem to tone them down.

By the third drink, he's entirely lost the plot. He keeps finding himself staring at Eliot: his hair pulled back expertly, the way he holds his jaw, the precise way he drinks from his glass. Everything just so very _Eliot_ after months of him being someone else.

Tired of his current position, he swings his legs over the armrest, but quickly realizes this position isn't conducive to sitting up straight, and falls back into Eliot's lap. Eliot snorts and slides a hand into his hair. "Well hello."

"Sorry. Got uncomfortable. Overestimated my agility."

"I see you're still a lightweight."

"Hey, you're the one that mixed the drinks, I'm just the one that drank 'em," Quentin says. Eliot stares down at him and traces a finger along the curve of his lips. Quentin goes to lick his lips self-consciously, catching Eliot's finger in the process. Eliot's mouth falls open just slightly.

"Alright," Margo says, cutting into Quentin's thoughts, "I'd tell you boys to get a room, but I guess you already have one. I'll be in the loft. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." And with a wink, she moves out of Quentin's line of vision, which at this point means she could be gone forever.

Quentin stares up at Eliot. "Do you wanna sleep with me? I mean, in my room?"

"Yes and yes," Eliot responds. Quentin grins.

Quentin giggles as they stumble their way toward his room. There's a moment after walking in when the room feels unfamiliar, because he's never been happy while staying here. The gravity of the feeling shakes off quickly, though, when Eliot wraps his arms around Quentin from behind and presses a kiss to the back of his neck.

"Welcome to Chez Quentin," Quentin says, turning and gesturing at the plain room around them. He grabs at Eliot's shirt and pulls Eliot back on the bed with him.

"Happy to be here," Eliot says. His nose nudges against Quentin's for a moment, their lips not quite touching as they hover in each other's space.

Eventually, Quentin loses patience and breaks the tension, kissing and then licking against Eliot's lips until he opens for him. He moans at the feeling of Eliot reciprocating, feels self-conscious for a second about Margo overhearing, and then decides she probably likes it. If not, she certainly has the power to cast a spell to tune it out.

"I missed you," Quentin says. "Am I allowed to say that?"

Eliot smiles. "I missed you too. Thanks for saving the world for me."

"Oh, well, you know," Quentin says awkwardly, the words to deflect escaping him. He laughs and just goes with, "You're welcome."

Eliot's next kiss is less heated, but it makes Quentin's toes curl. Where before, he felt like Eliot's favorite dessert that he finally got to devour, now he feels like the last day of vacation that Eliot just wants to languish in. Then again, that might be the vodka talking.

He loses track of how long they make out. Eliot's mouth just feels so good against his, he could stay here forever. But then he gets an idea and reaches out a hand to rub experimentally over the front of Eliot's jeans.

"Let's save that for the morning," Eliot says, wrapping his fingers around Quentin's wrist and pulling his hand away. "I'd rather blow your mind without the risk of alcohol blanking away some of the details."

"I'm not _that_ drunk," Quentin says, then hears the whine in his voice and thinks maybe Eliot is right.

The sting of rejection is quickly soothed away as Eliot keeps kissing him. Eventually, though, they have to own up to the fact that they both keep pulling away to yawn.

"I've got some sweatpants you can borrow, if you want." They would be comically short on Eliot, but that doesn't make Quentin want to lend them to him any less.

Eliot shrugs. "I can just sleep in my underwear, if you're cool with that."

"I--yeah, no, I'm cool with that."

Eliot ruffles his hair, then stands up and leaves the room. Quentin stares after him, puzzled, until he hears kitchen noises and then the sound of the tap. Eliot returns with two full glasses of water, one of which he foists on Quentin.

"Drink up, it's good for you," Eliot demands, and Quentin almost laughs at the sharp comparison between Eliot caring for him and the monster caring so little for his own body.

He looks away when Eliot starts to undress, then realizes he probably doesn't have to. He returns his gaze as Eliot pushes his jeans down his legs, but pretends he's focused on his water when Eliot catches him staring. One more glance, and Eliot is smirking.

Quentin slips into the bathroom to switch into pajamas, feeling strangely self-conscious. Eliot looks nearly asleep by the time he gets back, but he lifts up an arm to indicate a spot for Quentin. Quentin happily moves into place before drifting to sleep with Eliot's soft breaths huffing against his neck.

Throughout the night, Quentin has to get up twice to pee--he blames Eliot's mandatory water drinking--but the second time, he can tell he's sobered up quite a bit. Coming back to bed and into Eliot's arms brings a special kind of bittersweet comfort that he never let himself fantasize about. He's not sure how long this will last, this 'just got my body back' celebration of tenderness and sexuality, but Quentin's happy to be along for the ride.

The next time he wakes up, Eliot is staring at him. "Scale of 1 to 10, how bad is your hangover?" he asks without preamble.

Quentin squints at him and then wiggles around a little to feel himself out. "Like a 2. I feel pretty okay. Just tired."

"Good," Eliot says before placing his hands strategically on Quentin's hip and shoulder to maneuver him flat on the bed with Eliot staring down at him from above.

"Oh. So it's gonna be one of _those_ mornings," Quentin says, then realizes they've never really had one of 'those' mornings, except in vague memories of a life they lived a long time ago, if they can claim to have lived it.

Eliot shrugs, then moves down into Quentin's space and pauses just close enough that Quentin yearns to lean up and close the distance. "You're here, I'm here, the world-ending shit is out there. Seems like a great time for one of those mornings."

Quentin agrees wholeheartedly, so he gives into the temptation and stretches up to kiss Eliot. Eliot capitulates easily, like he was waiting for Quentin's buy-in. Their kiss quickly turns heated, every little grunt and gasp from Eliot going straight to Quentin's cock. Quentin can't quite stop himself from hooking his legs around Eliot's to convince him to drop his weight onto Quentin.

"Yeah, _yeah_ ," Quentin moans as Eliot shifts his kiss across Quentin's jaw, down to his neck. Quentin pushes his hips up into Eliot's weight, creating glorious friction against both of their cocks.

"You're so ready for it, huh?" Eliot murmurs directly into his ear before sucking the lobe into his mouth.

"Eliot, please," Quentin says. He hears the whine in his voice again, remembering last night, but this time it seems to fuel Eliot.

Eliot looks down at him, his gaze warm, then reaches up to smooth Quentin's bangs back. "You're so good for me, lighting up everywhere I touch you. You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes, _yes_ , but only if you get on with it."

Eliot grins and helps Quentin out of his pajama pants while Quentin tosses his shirt off to the side.

"You too," Quentin protests. If he's naked, he deserves to see Eliot too.

"Whatever you want," Eliot says, dragging his briefs down his thighs so that his cock slowly appears before springing free. Quentin watches and tries not to salivate. Maybe Eliot will let him suck him off later, if they're able to draw out this little reprieve.

"Tell me about this magical reservoir that only you can tap," Eliot says a few minutes later, circling one lubed finger around his hole. "I want to hear about how you saved the day."

"It wasn't really me, I mean, I just sealed the bottles," he gasps as Eliot pushes his finger in, just slightly.

"You want more? I want to hear what _you_ did."

"Fuck," Quentin says, squirming against the bedsheets. He remembers now how Eliot used to tease him this way, at the mosaic; make him say nice things about himself for a reward. "Well, okay, so there's this fucked-up garden in the castle, right, and there's a flower there that will only grow for you if you truly love Fillory." He stops to groan and push against Eliot's finger as it moves in and out of him. "Anyway, that's what I was told. I don't know how I feel about Fillory, but I knew we needed it to save you. A-and Julia. So, um, _fuck_ , I just kinda poured out my feelings about love and tried to make it about Fillory and that was enough?"

"Look at you," Eliot says, running his free hand down Quentin's flushed chest. He's got two fingers working Quentin open now, and it's pure bliss. "So you got the flower, which got you the magic? What was that like?"

"The weirdest rush," Quentin says honestly. "The power was intense," he gasps as Eliot adds a third finger, "but also a relief when it wore off. Like I'd officially accomplished something."

"And you used the last one on me," Eliot says, his voice seeming to catch slightly.

"Yeah," Quentin says, then again, " _yeah_ , I'd promised to use it for the people I loved--" _Cared about_ , he'd meant to say, but it's hard to be tactful with his nerves on high alert as Eliot fucks him with his fingers so expertly. "And there was no real plan about the Library, no matter what the others say. I had to make sure you were okay."

The bed creaks, and Quentin's eyes fly open. He's not sure when he'd closed them. But Eliot is leaning down, his lips meeting Quentin's in a kiss far sweeter than anything else they're doing.

Quentin bites at Eliot's lower lip as he pulls away. "I want you inside me, Eliot."

Eliot's hips stutter, causing his cock to drag over Quentin's hip. Quentin watches in fascination as the veil of Eliot's composure slips, just for a moment.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you," Eliot says. Quentin laughs before he can stop himself. "Okay, maybe you have some idea," Eliot allows, his lips tilting up into a small smile. "It's just that I've been living inside my head with a memory of you that doesn't even come close to the real thing."

Quentin's heart is racing, the pleasure-pull of Eliot's fingers almost overwhelming in combination with the tender look on Eliot's face and the weight of his words. "Eliot," he says tentatively, pushing up on his elbows to get closer.

"Shh," Eliot says, bending forward to kiss him again. "Let me make you feel good."

He summons a condom from somewhere across the room, where his clothes are piled; Quentin suspects Margo's involvement, because where else could he have acquired condoms in the past day? After a few moments of prep, Eliot lines himself up with one hand while reaching for Quentin's hand with the other, lacing their fingers together.

Quentin moans as Eliot pushes the head of his cock inside. He's already shaking just from the anticipation of Eliot filling him up. He squeezes Eliot's hand in encouragement as he feels him pushing in, inch by inch.

"God, Q," Eliot says as he bottoms out. Quentin thinks he might be shaking too. "Fuck, you feel amazing."

Quentin breathes and adjusts, squeezing Eliot's hand when he's ready for him to move. Eliot fills him up and fucks him in a way Quentin's fingers and his favorite dildo can never hope to measure up to. It feels really, unbelievably good when Eliot starts to fuck him in earnest. After months of wondering if he'd ever see Eliot again, he can't quite believe this is happening. The best he'd ever dared to hope for was getting his best friend back; as Eliot's cock hits just the right angle, Quentin sinks into the ecstasy of feeling and lets himself be overwhelmed.

"Q, look at me," Eliot says softly. Quentin hadn't realized he'd been looking away. The earnestness he sees in Eliot's expression gets him right in the gut, the pleasure of getting to be with him again all mixed up with the stress of the last however-long so that when tears spring to his eyes, he's not even sure which emotion caused them.

"Please don't stop," he says, squeezing Eliot's hand almost too tightly.

"Never," Eliot vows, and Quentin isn't quite sure what they're talking about, but Eliot is fucking him so perfectly that he can hardly care.

Quentin can no longer resist the temptation to touch his cock, hard and leaking against his stomach. After the first few pumps into his fist, he lets out a keen of pleasure that Eliot almost immediately responds to with his own moan. The two of them keep moving together, mirroring each other's pleasure, until Quentin feels like he might explode.

"I'm so close, _god_ , keep moving just like that," he says, and with a loud gasp, he spills over his hand and onto his chest.

"Fuck yeah, Q. You look so good coming for me."

Quentin is lost in a haze of white-hot pleasure, but he knows that Eliot hasn’t come yet, and that’s a crime. “Want to make you feel this good,” Quentin murmurs, pushing back into Eliot’s every thrust.

“Fuck, that’s the way to do it,” Eliot says, a gasp cutting off the last word. A few more pumps of his hips and he’s squeezing Quentin’s hand again as he moans out his release.

As Quentin eases back to awareness, he fixates on the stretch of Eliot's neck as he loses himself to his pleasure. He wishes for a moment for infinite flexibility that would allow him to lick across Eliot's neck and collarbones as he rides out his release.

It's a loss when Eliot pulls out, but Eliot makes up for it by settling his weight down over Quentin so that Quentin can kiss and lick the sweat from his neck just like he'd been picturing. He gets lost in the taste of salt on Eliot's skin, the way he can feel Eliot's pulse thrumming just below the surface. He feels blissfully happy, having Eliot so close.

Eliot lets out one long satisfied hum under Quentin's ministrations, then kisses him warmly when he makes his way back to Eliot's mouth. They finally release each other's hands, not realizing how firmly they'd been holding onto each other until they have to shake the stiffness out.

They opt for a lazy clean-up - spells that seem like old habits - and soon Quentin finds himself dozing off again in Eliot's arms.

When he wakes again, the sunlight coming in through the window tells him it is well past noon. He doesn't really feel hungry, but he knows they should probably eat something soon.

All of the worries and intrusive thoughts he'd managed to keep at bay over the last day start creeping in on him as he watches Eliot sleep. Part of him wants to sneak off to get dressed, using the excuse of a meal to keep from having a conversation that might end in disappointment, but a louder, more stubborn part of him won't leave this bed with Eliot until he absolutely has to.

So instead he focuses on his breathing and on what he can control. He can make an appointment with his therapist, now that he doesn't have to be worried about the Monster manifesting there and killing his primary connection to sanity. He can go back to the Drowned Garden and try again. He can ask Eliot what they're doing here, maybe, if he feels prepared for the answer.

When Eliot starts to stir, Quentin panics and forces his eyes shut. After a moment, Eliot's hand skims lightly down his side, and he whispers, "You're not fooling anyone."

Quentin peeks one eye open to see Eliot smile beautifully. Eliot cups Quentin's chin in one hand and leans in to kiss him, long and lazy like he's planning to stay a while.

It's really the mood of that kiss that leads Quentin to ask, “Hey, so, um, why did you ask me to kiss you, when you first woke up?”

Eliot huffs a laugh. “Honestly? I thought you’d say no. The you in my head was pretty much down for whatever, but he didn’t exactly challenge me.”

"Oh." Quentin's not quite sure what to make of that.

"Don't get me wrong, your response was so very _you_ that it erased any doubt. I just thought you’d take much more convincing to pick up where we left off, after the way I left things."

Quentin tries to remember exactly what he'd said and done. He'd been so tired. But Eliot wanted to kiss him, and Quentin would've given him anything in that moment, so overjoyed to see him again.

"Q?"

"When you say ‘where we left off…’"

Eliot's face falls. "Fuck. Have I fucked this up again?"

"No, shut up," Quentin scrambles to say. He's almost latched on to a thought that seems happy, but it won't fully manifest in his brain. "Are you saying…?"

"Fuck," Eliot says again. "No, okay. Hang on." He gets out of bed and kneels on the floor. He beckons for Quentin until he sits on the edge of the bed, then he takes Quentin's hands. The expression on his face is so open and vulnerable that Quentin finally lets himself feel the hope blooming in his chest. "Quentin Coldwater. Shit, I mean Q."

"It's okay," Quentin says, blinking back tears. "You say it differently anyway."

"I love you." Quentin's breath catches; he can't help it. "You made me an offer once, to give us a shot, and I turned you down because I was an idiot and because I was scared." He pauses and licks his lips. "Maybe I should put clothes on for this."

"Don't you dare."

"Well, I'm probably still an idiot, and I'm still a little scared, but while I have you here in this bizarrely fancy penthouse apartment, away from whatever bullshit always seems to get in the way, let me make _you_ an offer. Exclusive, indefinite access to Eliot Waugh, in whatever form or fashion you want him, no restrictions, some emotional baggage included."

"The emotional baggage is what seals it," Quentin says, his tears flowing freely now. "I don't have much to offer in return, just uh. Exclusive access to Quentin Coldwater--"

"--you forgot indefinite--"

"--indefinitely, um, as your boyfriend…?" Eliot nods. "As your boyfriend, no restrictions, definitely also with the emotional baggage."

Eliot grins broadly, looking a little misty-eyed himself. "Sold."

"Oh my god, please get back up here," and Eliot does, the two of them crying and kissing and clutching at each other like it really is the end of the world. "I love you so much," Quentin says between kisses.

Eliot tilts his forehead against Quentin's temple and just breathes for a moment. "I can't believe we just had the tenderest fucking sex of my life and you didn't even know that I wanted to be with you."

Quentin picks at a loose thread on the comforter. "Sometimes when you wish for things, and get shit in return, and fix problems, only to cause more problems, you stop believing that the things you want could actually happen."

"Oh, Q," he says, pressing a kiss to his temple. "It's okay to not believe sometimes. Let it be proven to you."

Quentin feels the side of his mouth turn up into a smile. "I kinda like the sound of that."

"You know, thinking about that stupid flower. I think I actually do love Fillory."

"Yeah?"

"Don't get me wrong, I could stand to have a break from it, but." Eliot sighs. "I figured out a lot of shit about myself, being trapped in Fillory. And I'm not even sure I'd be able to get out of my own head about us - literally and figuratively - without our proof of concept."

Quentin smiles. "Well in that case, I think I love it too."

"What do you say? Wanna help me make a flower bloom? Save the day together?"

Quentin kisses him. "Maybe tomorrow."

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a comment! they really do make me smile. :)
> 
> you can also find me on [tumblr](https://mixtapestar.tumblr.com)!


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